Bee Gees
by You Can Call Me Effie
Summary: Laura has just met Jim from IT.


I looked at at the man leaning on a table beside me and tilted my head slightly.

"You know, you strike me as the type of guy who secretly has a thing for disco."

Jim from IT turned to me, raising his eyebrows, presumably taken aback at my sudden comment. I shrugged. He' get used to it eventually, if he plans on sticking with Molly. And if he doesn't, he will be forcibly castrated.

"Disco?"

I jumped a bit, having forgotten he was still here. He seemed rather frightened of me, actually. Had I said any of that out loud?

"Yes, Laura, you did. Forced castration really isn't your worst," Sherlock cut in. "I think you'll find the time you threatened me with a pair of jewelry pliers on Christmas Eve was the most gruesome."

I snorted. That was a good Christmas.

Noting Jim's suddenly sickly complexion, John decided to be boring and reasonable. "Guys, you're scaring Molly's new boyfriend."

Jim's cleared his throat, eyes kind of flashing with something for a second, but then whatever it was was gone.

How odd. "Hey, Jimmy boy, your eyes kinda went freaky for a sec there-"

"So disco?" he interrupted, bringing back the previously interrupted conversation. Interrupt one to finish another one. People are weird.

"Yeah," I said, studying him closely. He shifted a bit under me gaze, unnerved probably. I wouldn't blame him. I've been told my eyes are unnaturally large. By Sherlock, mostly, but I assume he means unnaturally beautiful.

Cue hair flip.

Jim cleared his throat. "Um, you gonna elaborate, or...?"

Oh! I grinned.

Yeah, I got it.

"Bee Gees!"

He coughed. "Excuse me?"

"I think you have a massive thing for the Bee Gees but just won't admit it." I said, nodding to myself proudly and patting myself on the back.

Jim, who has not yet become accustomed to my mannerisms, looked at me like I'd lost my mind and turned to John for help. I shrugged again. They always think I'm the weird one at first, but that usually stops after they meet one of the Holmes brothers.

Who are 'they' you ask?

Everyone I have ever met.

In answer to Jimbo's silent question regarding my sanity, John shrugged. How rude! And here I was thinking we were friends. Who's Jim to judge anyway? He tried flirting with Sherlock! Honestly, if neither John, I, or Molly had gotten anywhere with that, what made this jimmy boy think he had a chance?

Then again, Molly and I are both female, and Sherlock does seem rather close to John...

"Laura, are you contemplating my sexuality again?" Sherlock asked, his voice unexpectedly close to my ear. I jumped and turned around, smacking his arm. "Sherlock, for fucks sake, do you mind not giving me a heart attack?"

He rolled his eyes. "Since you're very obviously still alive and standing in front of me, I can conclude you are exaggerating."

I pouted. "How do you know I'm not a ghost and my body's not in one of those bags over there?" I asked, pointing to the table Molly was working at.

Sherlock grabbed my finger and brought it in between our faces. "Well there's the fact that I can touch you," he started, wiggling my finger for emphasis and then dropping it when I made a suggestive 'oh?' noise. "And for another thing, the supernatural is just the human minds misguided way of explaining things they don't understand so that they may continue to live in the illusion that they know everything."

I blinked up at him. "What."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and put his hand on the small of my back, leading me out the door of the morgue. "John, we're leaving. Stop flirting with Molly's obviously gay boyfriend and bring Laura's coat."

John blanched, stuttering out a "I'm so sorry about him- I wish I could say he means well but he, he doesn't- so sorry- I have to go" to which Jimmy dodger (ha) replied with a wink, a wave, and a "I hope to see you soon~" as John quickly followed us out the door.

John, looking vaguely uncomfortable, gave Sherlock my coat and he helped me put it on. I was still trying to process the absurdity that was that day.

John turned to Sherlock, looked at him for a minute, and said exasperatedly, "This is why we don't have any friends."

I promptly burst out laughing and had to be piggy backed home by Mr. John Watson.

It was a good day.


End file.
